


Sorry (Someone Will Love You)

by thorkiship18



Series: One-Shots [26]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Bad Parent John Winchester, Bottom Sam, Consensual Underage Sex, Crush at First Sight, Explicit Sexual Content, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Sam Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Protective Dean, Psychic Sam, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Telekinesis, Top Dean, Twink Sam, Unrelated Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:16:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorkiship18/pseuds/thorkiship18
Summary: All alone, with an abusive father and abilities he doesn't understand, a young boy clings to a stranger who might hold the key to his freedom.





	Sorry (Someone Will Love You)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic could not have been made without my dearest friend, Hannah, who insisted I drop everything and make this. Love you, Stinky Bagel. Omg, this fic is such a mess. (Lol)

It hurts.

The room is dark.

The rough hands above him forcefully grip his soft exterior, his neck. The smell of hard whiskey assaults the boy's nostrils.

This is all Sam is aware of in this moment. The man above him, John Winchester, his father, touches him in a manner no other parent would to their child. If Sam resists, he's struck once more, leaving another bruise on his delicate face. He loves John...but he also hates him with every fiber of his being.

He shivers as John buries his face into his neck, deeply inhaling the young teen's sent. When John's like this, he usually wants something in return, a sign of affection, anything to help him forget about the horrors of the day. Of the monsters he fights with such determination. He taps on John's shoulder, signaling him to look at him. When their eyes lock, he nods.

Sam can give John this, even if he doesn't want to. He can give him an escape, even if he cannot find his own. He allows his father to kiss him, to lick into his mouth, to fuck him without mercy because this is all he's ever known.

It's possible to get him to stop. He could if he really wanted to, if he tried. He could call upon  _The Power_ to shove him away, yet it would only breed disaster. John hunts beings that have supernatural properties, and this  _thing_ inside of Sam makes it so that if John found out about him, his life would be literally be taken away. For now, he must endure the abuse, and the curse that plagues him.

With a grunt, John finishes his business, releasing his seed inside of his son, his baby boy. His mistake. He gets up from the bed, and pulls his pants up, walking away from the mess he's made. John exits the room; he slurs his parting words.

"Goodnight..."

Sam doesn't answer, he only lays in the bed, staring at the ceiling. After some time alone, a tear falls loose from his eye. Several more follow shortly after until the pillow below him is soaking wet. The pain in his rectum is nearly unbearable, and John's "present" leaks onto the sheets. Thank God that he actually had the decency to properly prepare for entry tonight.

He reasons with himself that he deserves what John is doing to him, that he somehow knows about his curse and is punishing him for it. Sam closes his eyes.

The door closes on it's own.

****

Dean checks the shred of paper from his jacket pocket. This must be the house where that Hunter lives. His dad had told him so many stories of John Winchester's legendary adventures, and Dean, a young and eager Hunter with a few successful Hunts under his belt, can't wait to kill stuff with this guy.

Apparently, John has a kid, a son. No one's ever seen him though; the Hunter community only know so little of him. Maybe John protects him from it all. Dean walks up to the house, tapping his knuckles on the wood of the door. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as he waits, the sudden urge to urinate hits him suddenly. Oh well, that's just great.

They'll be exterminating a Vampire nest shortly, no big deal. Soon enough, the door opens, and Dean stares at the legend himself. He looks...different than how he originally imagined him. John's gruffer here, and his eyes are a bit bloodshot. He looks like Hell, but then again, it's no secret that whiskey is John Winchester's best friend. The man nods to Dean, allowing him to enter the house; they talked briefly on the phone a few days ago.

"Nice to meet you, Sir." Dean says, holding out his hand.

John shakes it. His grip is firm, very strong. Jesus. "Dean, right? Welcome. Make yourself at home. Want a beer?"

"Uh, that would be great, but I gotta use the bathroom so bad."

"Haha, well it's upstairs."

"Thanks."

Dean goes up the stairs, skipping two at a time. This is what happens when you drink a two liter bottle of soda by yourself. One would learn from their past mistakes, right? No, not Dean. Stupid bladder. Once he reaches the top of the stairs, he veers right down the hall. Shit. There's four doors, and John didn't say which was which. For the love of God...

Sighing, he goes for the first door he sees. He opens it slowly, just in case he's made a mistake. That he does. Upon opening the door, he sees a beautiful sight. An Angel. Not a real Angel, because those don't exist, but...someone quite Angelic. John's Son. He's getting dressed. He's blissfully unaware of Dean's presence. The boy is small, thin frame, skin milky white. He looks so soft.

Dean forgets all about his bladder when he gazes upon the boy. He pulls his shirt over his head, and it just barely goes above his underwear covered buttocks. He looks so pure. However, the moment soon comes crumbling down. The boy turns his head, and once he sees Dean, he yelps, covering himself the best he can.

"Oh, shit. S--Sorry!"

"Get out!"

Dean attempts to close the door, but it slams closed by itself. That's definitely...odd. Wow. Okay. Either the kid ran all the way across the room to close the door, or he's going crazy. Nevertheless, he still feels like a bit of a pervert, but he can't help it. Dean resumes his search for the bathroom, mildly embarrassed by what had just transpired. He finds it, and immediately goes towards the toilet.

That boy...he wants to know more about him. He's tempted to get close to him. Dean has a--dare he say,  _crush_ on the kid. What's his birthday? What kind of music does he like? Classic rock? Does he eat junk food? Is he into guys? Is he into him?

"Son of a bitch..." He mutters.

****

Who the Hell was that!?

Sam sits on his bed, still very shocked that another man has seen him in his underwear. Another man? Who is he? Must be a friend of Dad's or something. He's young, but he doesn't look thst much older than Sam. He's got a bit of a boyish charm to him. Maybe 20? 22? Either way...he's cute.

Wait, what!? Cute? No! But yes! Yes? No! No to yes? Ugh!

Whoever that guy is, Sam just prays to God that he knows what he's he's doing. Hunting is dangerous, and he knows that from first hand experience of course. John's taken him on a few Hunts before, nothing huge. Ghosts and other minor threats, yet still dangerous. Sam doesn't like going on Hunts with John because even when he's right, he's wrong. Nothing pleases him...well, except one thing, and that thought makes Sam shudder.

"Sammy! Downstairs!" John calls. That's his commanding voice. If he doesn't obey soon, bad things will happen.

Sam pulls on his sweatpants quickly. "Okay!" He yells back. "Be right there!"

Oh, boy. What is it now? Sam rushes out of his room, and down the staircase in a hurry. When he gets downstairs, he sees his father waiting for him with the other guy, the one who barged in on him getting dressed. The memory causes his cheeks to burn hot. How embarrassing. The guy looks at him nervously as well.

"Yes?" Sam asks.

John's expression is stony. "Just letting you know that I'm leaving today. Sam, this is Dean Smith. He's gonna be working with me on this Hunt. Dean, this is my son, Sam."

Dean gives him a small wave and a tight lipped smile. They've met already, but John doesn't need to know. "Hey."

"Hi..." Sam smiles back. Maybe he can forgive him for accidentally spying on him because if that handsome face.

John looks between them, angry. At what? What's going through this brute's mind? Oh, how Sam wishes he could read minds.  _The Power_ only allows him to move objects and occasionally have prophetic visions of the future, though that only occurs when he's asleep. Still, seeing John this way--seemingly jealous of Dean--scares Sam, it shakes him to the core.

He's never seen his father this way. Maybe because John has never brought home a Hunter that Sam views as attractive. The elder Hunter clears his throat, getting both Sam and Dean's attention.

"I'll be gone for a few days. Only a few. Salt the doors and windows--"

"I made up the Devil's Traps this morning," Sam finishes. "Silver bullets in every pistol, and rock salt in every shotgun. Wards are up too. I remember everything, Dad."

Dean whistles off to the side, arms folded and grinning. "Damn, that's pretty awesome. Hey, I'm sure we could use your skills. You sure you don't wanna come with us?"

Is he actually being included in something!?

"I--"

"No," John grunts. "He's staying here. He has no place out there. Come on. Time to go."

"Okay." Dean frowns, but smiles again as he exits when John. "Bye, Sam."

"Bye..."

Once they leave, and he has the house to himself, Sam sits down on the stairs, arms around his knees. John sure knows how break down his son's self-esteem. No place out there? What does that mean exactly? That the world is so dangerous, and that the only safe place for him is here, with John? That's not safe at all. In fact, it's the opposite.

He's been this way for as long as Sam can remember. Possessive, controlling...abusive, yet also protective of the only family he's got left. Sam doesn't know anything of his mom, only that she was killed by a Demon with yellow eyes. John often says that he reminds him of his mother, that he has her eyes, her face. Must be why he gets drunk, and screws Sam into the mattress every night...

He can't...God, it's just so hard to hate John. Sam's incapable of it. He can't hate the man who helped bring him in this world. In fact, he can only sympathize with him. John's mind is--it's slipping, his sanity is deteriorating each day. The Hunts aren't helping, and it's gotten to a point to where he'll grab a bottle of beer or whatever gets him wasted first thing in the morning.

In a sense, Sam has to play caretaker to his father. He just doesn't know how long he'll have to keep that up. Suddenly, he hears a strange humming in the back of his skull. Images flash in his mind.

Dean.

Laughing.

Peace.

It's over in a flash, and it leaves Sam speechless. He had a vision wide awake...of that man. He was with him, seemingly having a fun time. The boy scoffs, but then he smiles softly.

What's this warm feeling in his chest?

****

It's been mostly silent for the entire ride thus far. There's been some small talk every now and then regarding Dean's prowess in battle or a story from John's previous Hunts. Though there's only one thing that's on Dean's mind, and that's Sam Winchester. He's a beautiful thing for sure, shy too obviously. He knows his stuff, and Dean is positive that he's not just booksmart either.

There was a fear in his eyes when John spoke to him, but Dean brushes it off. Most dads can be very intimidating, and that's something that John Winchester is. If looks could kill, he would be a serial killer of some sort. Dean's heard tales of Hunters partnering with John, how he prefers to usually work alone on smaller cases, and how it's a little more than difficult for novice Hunters to work with him.

It was said that he once left a Hunter behind as bait. It's just a story, but Dean remains wary of his idol.

"Ever fought one of these bastards before, Dean?" John asks, eyes on the road.

"Yeah, but just once. The asshole nearly took a chunk out of me."

"It's difficult to kill em up close, but that's how you do it. How'd you get into this, this 'business that we're in?"

"I..." Dean starts, unsure where to begin. "My mom and sister were killed by Werewolves. Messed my dad up...messed me up too. We've been fighting ever since, protecting other families. Dad is more of a researcher than an actual Field Hunter, if that makes sense. We're good, haven't died yet. What about you?"

"Me?" John nearly grunts. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. "There's nothing to say. Every Hunter gets into the game through a tragedy of some kind. Someone died, I geared up, that's it."

He's a tough one. He's grizzled, hardened by whatever devastating events lead him down this part. John must've lost someone, that's how it starts. Dean didn't see a woman or any family photos at the house, so it might not be a stretch to say that Sam's mom and John's wife was killed by a supernatural entity.

"Yeah, but what about Sam?" Dean says out loud by mistake.

John turns to him briefly. His expression is menacing. "What about Sam?"

"Just asking. He seems smart, could possibly handle himself in a fight. Could help with lore on a creature. Maybe I could take him around for a day out or--"

"Sam stays at home," says John. "Always. Hunting is too dangerous. He knows that. Stay focused on the Hunt, not my personal life or my son."

The conversation ends there. John stops talking, and Dean stops trying to make small talk. The young Hunter allows his mind to drift back towards Sam, his beauty, his shy smile and the way he tucks his hair behind his ears. So fucking cute. Dean needs to know--Hell, he  _demands_ to know every single detail about Sam. The thought of him smiling and laughing causes Dean to grin inadvertently. They should hurry on this Hunt. The quicker it ends, the quicker they'll get back to Sam.

Finally, he's got someone worth fighting for.

****

**Two Days Later...**

Sam focuses his energy on the quarter on the coffee table. He stripped the furniture of all objects save for that one. This is what he does when John's gone, he practices using  _The Power_ , gaining strength more mental strength. It's also fun to do. He once levitated a huge textbook into his arms. That night, he was researching a monster for John over the phone.

"Come on," Sam smiles. "Let's do this one more time."

As if obeying Sam's words, the coin shakes on the surface, then jumps into an upright position. He giggles at his efforts. With more power, Sam causes the quarter to spin fast in place. It needs more, something more, so the coin lifts into the air, still spinning like the toy tops he used to play with as a kid. It's a flurry of movement, faster than the human eye can comprehend. But Sam's smile fades as he hears the keys at the front door.

The coin drops onto the table just as John and Dean enter the house. Sam's face pales, not knowing if either of them witnessed what he was doing. Thankfully, John only looks pleased. The Hunt must've been very successful then. His mood is always great after a great Hunt. This might mean he won't slink into his room tonight. Good. Sam waves at Dean with a small grin, all teeth. Dean waves back, winking. Oh, boy...

"Did you get em' all?"

"Yes we did." John laughs, dropping their belongings near the door. "Every last one of those fuckers. Dean was damn good at it too. Best partner I had in a long time."

Dean chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He's so handsome. "I wasn't that great...but thanks."

"I'm you're back...both of you." Sam adds in. "Should I order the food this time?"

"Food?"

John claps a hand on Dean's shoulder. "After a good Hunt, it's Winchester tradition to order food. Pizza or Chinese?"

"Pizza."

"Pizza it is. I'll get on it." John's smiling face soon becomes a questioning frown when he spots the coffee table. "Why did you clear the table off?"

Shit.

"I--I," Sam stumbles, trying to come up with a lie. "I was looking through more books, and I needed room. Sorry..."

"It's okay. Just...clean it up, okay?"

"Yes, sir..."

John disappears into the kitchen to call the nearest pizza shop, while Sam resumes to put everything back in it's place, leaving him here alone with Dean. Unexpectedly, the latter helps Sam with the clean-up, handing him objects that he's unsure where to put. They don't say much, but they're comfortable in their silence.

They both reach for an object at the same time, causing their hands to touch. At first, neither of them pull away. In fact, Dean looks up at Sam who almost has him beat when it comes to blushing. He gently squeezes his hand, reassuring him some kind of way. It feels nice,  _this_ feels nice, whatever this is. Sam bites his lip, then takes his hand away before standing up again.

That warmth in his chest spreads again.

****

Dinner was...eventful.

Sam and his dad were great entertainers. They told tales of botched Hunts, or Hunts that we're nearly too outlandish to be true, even by Hunting standards! Of course, John did most of the talking, often interrupting his own kid. Dean kinda felt sorry for him, and started to question John's parenting skills, though only voiced them to himself in his mind.

After dinner, Sam went upstairs, while John invited Dean to watch whatever football game was on. Though, as time passed on, and John continued to drink, he ended up passed out on the couch. Now, Dean feels a bit awkward just being here. He quietly excuses himself to the bathroom, remembering which door it is this time to avoid unnecessary shouting.

Once finished emptying his bladder, Dean washes his hands, and exits the bathroom. However, he doesn't go back downstairs right away. He stalls by Sam's door, hearing soft music on the other side of the door. Dean lifts his hand to knock, but stops. What does he do? Sam's obviously still awake; his lights are on, and there's music. He doesn't wanna bother him though. Before he makes his decision, he hears Sam.

"Come in."

Without stalling any further, Dean turns the knob to open the door. He sees Sam laying his stomach on the bed and reading a huge book. Looks like an ancient tome full of lost information. Dean walks all the way into the room, but not before leaving the door open a little. The last thing he needs is John Winchester thinking that he's molesting his son. Dean would never, not Sam...though, if the situation ever arose when Sam was willing, Dean's not so sure he would say no.

He takes a seat on the floor facing Sam. "What're you reading?"

"Myths on different creatures and monsters." Sam answers with a grin. He sits up, and slides down the bed until he's sitting with Dean on the floor. "Wanna see?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure!"

That's how they spent most of the night: Talking.

Sometimes about nothing, sometimes about everything, and a little in between. Sam's easy to talk to, Dean finds. He listens, and speaks from his heart, not tied down to some petty Hunter's code or whatthefuckever. And he's smart too! God, he's so fucking smart! Dean knows that he's smart, but Sam may have him beat. He knows his favorite color now, his favorite movie, his birthday, and whether or not he's into other guys.

The answers was a timid "Maybe", but Dean knows the truth.

After a few hours of getting to know each other, Sam and Dean sit together in silence once more, just enjoying each other's company. Sam makes him feel...safe in a strange way. Dean even opened up about his own father, how he helps so many other people, but never once looks after himself. Sam also opened up about his life.

His mother was killed by a Demon when he was a baby, and that's why John is the way he is. Stern, distant. Sam didn't go into much detail about certain things, but Dean doesn't want to assume the worse from John. He can't. The man's a legend! But they say even legends fall. Jesus Christ...

"Dean?"

"Huh? Yeah?"

Sam fiddles with the hem of his shirt nervously. "You know...I...there's something that I...why is this so hard?"

"Hey," Dean says, placing his hand over Sam's again. "Whatever it is, just say it. It's okay. I'm cool."

This reassures Sam, and Dean takes it as a win.

"I can move objects around with my mind." Sam blurts out.

Well...okay. That's...certainly something. Dean tries to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish. What's there to say? He laughs nervously, trying to alleviate some of the awkward tension in the room. However, Sam looks at him with huge puppy dog eyes, and Dean just fucking melts. Wait, is he serious? How!? Is he one of those Psychics?

Before he can even ask, Sam looks around the room for something. Once he spots it, he nods at Dean. Soon, a pen begins hovering over to them before spinning slowly in front of Dean's face. Holy Shit, it's true! He reaches out to grab the pen, and it lands in his hand gracefully. Sam looks away from the Hunter, presumably scared. So that's why he never leaves.

"Sam, this is--"

"John doesn't know." The boy whispers. "He can't ever know. I can't let him. He'll try to kill me."

"Sam...stop. No one's gonna kill you, okay? What you can do is--it's extraordinary! You could actually help people with this."

Sam's face brightens. It makes Dean want to do sweet things to him. "You think so?"

Dean smiles. "Of course! It's gonna be a shock to a lot of people in the community, but I'm sure you'll be accepted in no time."

"Thanks, Dean."

"No problem, Sammy."

The boy looks at him again, this time in mild shock. At what? Did he do something wrong? If he did, he wants to fix it! Dean will do anything and everything for Sam, that's a promise. He deserves better than whatever treatment he's getting here. Say, when did they start getting closer, and when did Dean's hand start touching Sam's cheek?

But before they can kiss, the door opens, and in steps John Winchester, clearly drunk and incredibly angry. He looks fucked up. Sam and Dean shoot up to their feet. The man looks back and forth at them. Dean feels guilty, even though he's technically done nothing wrong.

"It's late, Dean." John rasps. "I think you need to leave."

"Y--Yeah. Okay." He tries to leave, but Sam grabs his arm, but eyes silently pleading for him to stay. "Sam? What's wrong."

"Sam..." John growls.

Sam relinquishes his grip over Dean, seemingly defeated. What's going on between those two? Dean gives Sam one last smile before walking out of the room, and down the stairs. As he leaves the house, and gets into his car, Dean thinks about how much of a mistake it was to leave Sam there with his father.

****

Dean's gone.

He's gone, and he'll probably never see him again. John just stands there at the door, carefully eying his son. Sam also stands still, still uncomfortable being the object of his father's "affection". Sam doesn't cry because he knows what will come next at any moment. He'll be back on his back in the bed, forced to spread himself open. But maybe it doesn't have to be this way anymore.

"Get your clothes off."

Maybe it can be different.

"Get on the bed, and get ready."

He doesn't have to play caretaker to his father anymore.

"No." Sam mumbles silently.

John's eyes widen. He takes a few steps into the room. Sam takes two steps back.

"No?"

"Y--You're not gonna hurt me anymore. I won't let you. What...would mom think? What would she say if she saw you doing this to me?" Sam hadn't realized it, but he's crying. "She'd hate you for it...just like me. I hate you, John. I hate you so much, but I don't at the same time. I'm leaving. I can't stay."

John rushes forward, throwing Sam onto the bed. He pins him down with his weight. "You little bastard! You're not leaving! You hear me!? Not you too! You're all I have left! I can't lose you. I'll love you harder just to make you stay."

"No! Stop!"

"If I love you, you'll stay."

"Please--!"

"Don't fight me, Sammy."

"Dean, help me!"

But he has to fight, and he'll keep fighting until he gets away from him. Sam squirms and writhes underneath John, pounding on his chest furiously. With a scream, John is suddenly pushed away and onto the floor, giving Sam some breathing room. He's done it. He's finally revealed the existence of  _The Power_ to his father.

John looks at him from where he's sprawled out on the floor. "You...are not my son."

Sam is scared. "No, Dad, listen--"

"I won't listen to a Demon's lies!"

The words pierce into his heart like a knife. "I'm not a Demon! Dad, please--!"

"Die!"

John rushes at him again, but Sam ducks out of the way in time, taking off into the hallway. He heads towards the stairs, but John tackles him, and they both go tumbling over the railing and down into the living room. John stops moving, but the boy tries to get up with all his might. Sam groans, trying to crawl his way over to the front door, but John comes to quickly, grabbing his foot.

He kicks at him, but his efforts are futile. John claws up towards him until he wraps his calloused hands around Sam's soft neck. He squeezes and squeezes. Oh, dear God!

_He's going to kill me._

****

Dean stops at a gas station not too far from John's house to get some stuff for the road. He's still a little shaken up about the final encounter he had with both of them. In a flash, strange noises assualt Dean's head. Voices, and images. John and Sam.

_Dean, help me! He's going to kill me._

They stop abruptly; the vision makes Dean sick to his stomach. John's been doing more than roughing Sam up, and now he's trying to kill him? Fuck that. Dean hops back into his car, and turns around with a new destination in mind.

****

He never really thought about how he'd die. Maybe a stray bullet, or Demon assault on the house, but never by the hands of his own father. Sam struggles under him. His oxygen is being cut off, and his vision is becoming blurry. He kicks and squeals, but none of it seems to assuage John. He's gone completely. Sam supposes it was only a matter of time, but here he is.

The front door is kicked open, and a gunshot is heard loud and clear. John flops down onto Sam who only gasps and coughs. Looking up, he sees his knight in shining armor, Dean. He's come back for him. But how? How did he know? It doesn't matter. Nothing else matters but Dean right now. He helps Sam up before embracing him, crying, pleading for forgiveness for leaving him alone.

Sam shushes him.

It's okay. It's all gonna be okay now.

The monster is dead.

****

**Weeks Later...**

It feels good.

The room is dimly lit.

The soft hands above him touch his body so gently. The man is Dean Smith, and he's finally gotten the courage to do what Sam's always wanted him to do. This is how it's supposed to be, just the two of them connected like this. Just the two of them loving each other in Dean's comfy bed.

It feels right.

Just the two of them against the world.

****

"Everything's going according to plan." The Demon smirks.

"Sam will be a great change of pace, don't you think?" The other one says quietly.

"Of course. We've been waiting for this for so long. No more hiding. And...do you think he knows?"

"That he's fucking his brother?" The Demon's eyes glow yellow. "Not a chance."


End file.
